Distractions
by Freya-Rhianna
Summary: Gregson/Lestrade. Or GregGreg, if you will. Greg was coiled up on his side, his arm clutching his knees to his chest. Even as Tobias watched Greg let out another low groan. "Straders?" Bias whispered, resting a palm against the curve of Lestrade's cheek. "What's wrong?" Lestrade shook his head with a groan "Hurts." he reiterated "make it stop."
1. Chapter 1

**What's that? Unrealistic plot line, and unwise use of character only mentioned once? I'm sorry, can't hear you over the sound of _shipping._**

**This is the result of me having access to pen and paper when ill.  
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**Otherwise, I hope you like it (:  
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* * *

When Lestrade first began to show signs of stirring, Gregson paid it no mind; sleep was bound to elude when one was spending the night in unfamiliar settings (granted the office wasn't that unfamiliar, it was just the sleeping in the aforementioned office that was).

A rapid and extensive snow fall had kept them both (along with a good two thirds of Scotland yard) trapped, and with no signs of the snow shifting any time soon the DCI had suggested having a rest; something that some where finding more difficult than others.

Lestrade groaned loudly from where he lay, and when Gregson turned to face him, he was surprised to see the other DI's face scrunched up in pain. Pulling himself up onto his knees, Gregson shuffled closer to the other man to get a better look at him.

Greg was coiled up on his side, his arm clutching his knees to his chest. Even as Tobias watched Greg let out another low groan. Ever so slowly, Greg's body eased out, as if he was testing a new position, and (inexplicably) just as it looked like Greg was going to fold himself back into a ball, Gregson's hand reached across and tentatively smoothed down the folds of Greg's shirt over his stomach. Instantly Greg stilled, his eyes fluttering behind his lids, but his groaning was soothed to a soft purr.

When Greg showed no signs of his groaning returning, Bias, without thinking, slowly began to thread the buttons of his shirt through the loops and slid the material off of Greg's shoulders before replacing his hand on bar skin. Greg shuddered beneath his touch. Tobias was so consumed with the feel of Greg's warm shuddering skin beneath his own (that was coincidentally erupting into, goose bumps) that he didn't notice that Greg's eyes had flickered open until the latter man mumbled "Hurts."

Tobias faltered at the realisation, but at Lestrade's disgruntled complaint resumed his rubbing. Only when Greg shifted his weight until his head was propped up against a bundle of blankets, that were serving as pillows, that Tobias noticed tears were flowing from his eyes.

"Straders?" Bias whispered, resting a palm against the curve of Lestrade's cheek. "What's wrong?"

Lestrade shook his head with a groan "Hurts." he reiterated "make it stop." his voice turned pleading, and another sob slipped from his lips.

"Just tell me how," Tobias murmured, concerned that any louder sounds would ruin any semblance of calm that Tobias had been trying to coax.

"Distract me please." Tobias nodded in assent and, without really thinking about what he was doing, slid further up until he was aligned with Lestrade and pushed his chest against Lestrade's back.

The warmth was evidently helping, but Lestrade was still groaning and so Toby smoothed down Lestrade's slightly damp hair at the nape of his neck with his lips before placing a firm kiss there.

"Shhh," Gregson murmured, his fingers still tracing patterns across the plane of Greg's stomach.

Greg shifted uncomfortably as the buttons of Tobias' shirt dug into his back and, taking that as an invitation, Gregson began to unbutton his own shirt and, now with bare skin touching, fire erupted across his chest.

Lestrade's face burned as he, Gregson supposed, experienced a similar reaction but the flow of tears had at least stopped.

Adamantaly ignoring the reaction lest he envoked some kind of indignation from the other man, Gregson murmured nonsensical words into the other DI's ear (an excess of 'Honey' 'sweetie' 'love' and 'sunshine' mostly), and, when he broke off into a low humming song, Greg was slowly lulled to sleep.

* * *

"Gregson?" Hopkins' voice cut through Gregson's sleep fogged ears like a knife. "Are you up yet I-" The voice faltered to a stop somewhat abruptly and, now far more alert then he had previously been, Gregson shot away from the still slumbering form of Greg Lestrade.

"It's not what it looks like," Gregson hastened to amend any misconceptions, but Hopkins merely raised his hands as if in surrender.

"Hey, we all know what divorce can do to people, and I'm certainly not going to judge you for it." Hopkins' words where accompanied by a light smile. With one last inclination of his head, Hopkins (somewhat too joyously for Tobias' liking) walked back across the office to the door but, before he disappeared back into the hallway beyond he turned to face Tobias' one last time and added "But keep it out of the office next time boys," with a very 'put-upon' sigh that Gregson didn't appreciate.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm not even sorry.**

* * *

The next time it happened, Gregson figured in hindsight that he probably should have been prepared for it. Hopkins had been the one to suggest that Gregson should be the one to investigate Lestrade's absence after the other man hadn't turned up to work that morning.

Perhaps, he reasoned, he should have been more suspicious of Hopkins motive for sending him, but at the time he had been preoccupied.

Only now, as he stood on the threshold of Lestrade's flat did he begin to question his presence there; would he be unwanted? Lestrade's door had been unlocked, so was he even in? Then, of course, he had spotted Lestrade splayed out in a helpless mass across his sofa and all worries conceded to that sight.

Despite having plainly been seen by the other man, who had raised his head up minutely, Gregson still felt the need to announce his presence as he approached "Straders, it's just me."

Lestrade sighed, and Gregson decided it was probably the best form of complaint that he could give given his pain riddled state, and as such Gregson began to feel unsure of himself again, debating whether or not he should just leave, until ultimately Greg swayed his hand by indication that Gregson should sit at the arm of the chair just behind where Greg's head was resting.

Despite the clear invitation to invade the Lestrade's personal space, Gregson still felt out of sorts as he edged closer the sofa.

Inevitable Gregson ran out of room to squander, and so he was forced to perch, in a manner he hoped to be graceful (or at the very least nonchalant), upon the armrest.

Immediately Lestrade shuffled around the accommodate the added presence of Gregson's knees; his head coming to rest between them.

For a while the position served them well; Gregson was content to just listen to the steady inhale and exhale of breath that was Lestrade's breathing pattern, but when he sensed turbulence in Lestrade's demeanour his hand fell subconsciously to Lestrade's temple where his fingertips traced soothing patterns.

Lestrade gave a low hum, whether in thanks or merely in satisfaction it was hard to tell, but the sound brought a smile to Gregson's face regardless.

Eventually Lestrade's head lulled back entirely onto Gregson's legs, boneless and free of tension and Gregson, running the pad of his forefinger down across Greg's neck, was quite certain that his colleague was deep asleep but then, as his own eyes began to drift close and he slumped back onto the small amount of sofa that was available, Lestrade spoke into the silence.

"Tobias."

That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. The words were entirely inconsequential, with only inane meaning to accompany them, but his voice...Lestrade's voice as Gregson's given name left his parted lips meant so much more.

Before his mind had time to dwell on it though, Gregson was already losing himself to sleep. When they awoke the next morning no words were spoken, and no pleasantries exchanged. Merely a simple nod of the head that, for some reason, felt so much more awkward than forced words


End file.
